The Only One in the World Raid
by equine02
Summary: Pneumonia. In the desert. Of course.


**Hey guys, so I know it's been a long time…. A really, really, really long time. I'm a horrible person. So this is my apology of sorts to ya'lls, in the form of a virtually plot-less one-shot. This one is especially for some guests who have been long begging me to write something new. I hope you guys see this: ) This is also unedited, so all mistakes are mine.**

 **Disclaimer: You guys know the spiel…. I don't, can't, and probably never will own 'em. Just the facts, Jack.**

Tully, resting his forehead in his hand, leaned against the jeep. His head throbbed mercilessly, as it had since… he didn't remember when, but this was terrible.

"Tully," a soft voice interrupted his rest with a questioning tone, "are you alright?"

"Yeah, Doc, I'm good." He mumbled through his fingers.

"It doesn't seem so, but you can prove it by getting in and…"

Tully glanced up, startled. He realized that Hitch and Troy were both already in their jeep staring critically at him, waiting.

"Sorry Doc." He said quickly, slowly getting into the driver's seat, trying to ignore how warm he felt, although he was certain that it wasn't just him blushing. An unbearable heat penetrated his muscles, and he had to ease into the sun-heated seat with much discomfort.

The Englishman shook his head and climbed into the back.

Tully pulled out, following Hitch's lead. His eyes felt heavy and sun-dry. He hadn't slept well for the last few nights now, Tully had found himself much more vague and distant, unable to focus on much, and constantly in combat with a terrible headache; even he could notice his change in mood and behavior. Honestly, he had tried to convince himself that a clean change of clothes, and hot shower, and some grub would cure all ills, but his headache said otherwise. All four of them had been over-worked for the past few days. With a mission to retrieve charts confiscated by the Germans, closely followed by another to liberate hostages, not one of them had stepped foot in Ras Tanura for at least ten days.

Just this morning, on their way back, Rats had been radioed to check out German activity in a tiny Arab village, throwing them several miles off their course, further from home and the desired food and rest. When they arrived at the village, it was too late. Nothing could be salvaged to draw any information of what exactly had happened- except- surprise, surprise- sand. After they were sure there were no survivors from the burnt-out village, Troy and Moffitt paused for a few minutes to check their charts. Tully had almost fallen asleep in his seat as he waited, with Hitch's ridiculous music playing on his jeep's radio a few yards away, and had had to force himself to get up and walk around in order to stay awake enough to drive. Finally, he had leaned up against the side of his jeep, sweating and exhausted, and that's how Moffitt found him as they were getting ready to leave. Now that they _were_ pulling out, Tully resisted the urge to stop the jeep and reach down for his canteen- Not to drink from, but to splash himself in the face with.

As they were driving, Tully was over-come with a horrible rattling in his chest as he inhaled. Exhaling almost sounded worse, and before he could control himself, he curled up and began to cough uncontrollably. Grasping blindly for control of the jeep, his mind wandered in a strangely stagnant and slow way. _You should stop the jeep…_ he felt hands on his shoulders, and a voice, too distant to recognize, yelling somewhere across the foggy world. He felt tears in his eyes as he swerved, and eventually came to an abrupt stop that almost threw Moffett out of the jeep. Tully was by now gasping for air.

"Sarge!" he barely got out, breathing hard and feeling another string of coughs coming. His headache was intensified, but no longer was he so hot. Now he was freezing, and shivered uncontrollably.

"Troy!" Moffit said, voice more serious than it had ever sounded before, even through the fog, "Help me with him."

"Tully?" Hitch asked gingerly. But Tully heard him worlds away… yet still there in an untouched corner of time a space. The desert swam before his eyes, and he blinked slowly as strong hands helped him lay down.

"Sar- Sarge," he arched his back and neck to try to see his leader.

"I'm here Tully," Troy sighed, "How's it look Moffitt?"

"I don't know yet." Moffitt took Tully's pulse, and felt his forehead, a look of strange and alien desperation in his eyes. "He sounds bad."

Troy silently agreed as Hitch slid to his knees next to him. They could all hear Tully's breathing, and it was like claws on a screen door compared to his usual silence. Tully's head was now limply positioned to the side, and his eyes closed. Moffit sat back on his heels, and put his palms down on his thighs.

"I just don't know. He sounds terrible- like pneumonia- but he seemed alright earlier, and this is quite sudden…"

"He seemed off to me," Hitch said, gazing on with his eyebrows scrunched up.

"We all are," Troy replied quietly. "See what you can do for him, Moffitt. I'm going to radio in for an ambulance. We're only a few miles from home."

When Troy jogged off, Hitch took the opportunity to scoot closer to his buddy, unbuckling his helmet and slipping it off.

"You know," Hitch realized aloud, "He's the only one who's wearing a standard uniform. Good thing, ya know. He's so accident prone, he needs all the help he can get." Hitch sullenly tapped the hard material.

Moffitt glanced up. Hitchcock almost glanced a ghost of a smile, but it flickered away and perished in the depths of his worried eyes.

"Is he gonna pull through, Doc, do you think?"

"Yes. He has to." Moffitt's reply was feather soft, almost lost in the current of worry that seemed to hang over their sick buddy, "God knows we won't find another Tully Pettigrew."

* * *

Ras Tanura was such a beautiful place to tired eyes. Two jeeps and an ambulance came pulling in sometime late in the afternoon, and pretty soon after, a wickedly hot wind began to stir the sand. Everyone took cover inside the mess halls and dormitories… except for Jack Moffitt, Sam Troy, and Mark Hitchcock. The hospital was silent, although activity buzzed around them. It was as if everyone was honoring the desert with a moment of quiet. Plus, the sound of ticking sand on the walls outside could draw many an ear to listen and never need to understand.

* * *

Four and a half days later, Hitchcock leaned against the wall of the hospital, dozing, as he waited yet again for any news.

Eventually, a young, brunette nurse came along and gently shook his shoulder, and startling blue eyes opened to look at her..

"Mark Hitchcock?" She asked. He nodded. Smiling warmly, the nurse tilted her head, as if to listen to the phantom sandstorm, which was several days gone, but spending only a second to do so. "Private Pettigrew is awake."

* * *

Pneumonia. So it was, and correctly diagnosed by Moffitt- caused by overwork and not enough sleep. In time, Tully would heal. Right now, he was bleary eyed with an oxygen mask covering half his nose and mouth, but he looked relieved to see the familiar faces of his comrades. He sighed as soon as they stepped into the room.

"How are you feeling?" Moffitt smiled.

"Mmmmppfff."

Troy grinned, "Charming." He reached down and put a hand on Tully's shoulder, "Good to have you back."

Tully slowly reached up and pulled the mask away. "Thanks. You guys should get some rest."

His voice was unsurprisingly raspy, but still Tully all the same. Troy resisted the urge to ruffle the Private's unruly hair.

"We're all caught up on that. It's you who need the sleep." This was Troy's way of telling Moffitt to leave with him so that Hitch could talk to Tully.

As soon as they were gone, Hitch sat on the edge of Tully's bed.

They exchanged a look of unspoken relief.

"What happened out there?" Tully eventually spoke.

Hitch considered for a moment, tilting his head back.

"You scared us to death." He said, "But Moffitt's right."

"About what?"

"God knows we couldn't find another Tully on this earth."

"He said that?" Tully rasped, still grinning nonetheless.

"Yup. You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Oh yes," Tully let loose an evil expression, "He _is_ a softie. And by the time I'm done," Tully paused to cough, "by the time I'm done, the whole of Africa is gonna know it!"

 **There you go! Thanks!**


End file.
